The Apple of Rex's Eye

My husband had a new girlfriend. It sings him songs, sends him letters about all his favorite gadgets, and keeps his political brain stimulated. For all I know it could keep his other brain stimulated too with racy pictures. I wouldn't really know, though. I can't get her out of his hands to debrief her.

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What makes this girlfriend so fabulous is that she never argues, rarely complains and will let him touch her whenever he wants. The little tramp fits snugly (and looks darn sexy) in skin tight leather. Her name is Ipod. She's brilliant. I hate her.

But, unlike Eve, who was tempted by another apple, I won't let the Apple of Rex's eye get the best of me. I won't start thinking, "If only I were as clever as her," or "This is the problem with technology… it replaces the need for human companionship…" or "I suppose if I reacted with sound every time Rex pressed my button he'd want to hold me a lot more often."

Okay, maybe for a moment I allowed Miss Pod to needle me, but rather than rant and rave (or hide the slim little bitch in the garbage disposal) I decided to work with her, not against her. After all, she's the one with the problem, not me. I can speak for myself, while she can only have power when she's with a man. And come on, can she be any more co-dependent? She's literally attached to his hip twenty four hours/day. At some point he's going to get tired of that little act.

I thought Rex's obessoin would last only a few days, but Ipod is crafty. She slipped into our walk, our nightly chats in the living room, and once she made her way to the dinner table.

I could get mad, but everything has its season. I, too, was once the object of Rex's affection. I remember when we first dated how he'd lie down next to the tub while I was bathing just to hear my crazy stories.

I thought those days were long gone. But then last night, while I basked in bubbles, I called into the bedroom, "You still enjoying the Ipod?" Lo and behold, he skipped in and lay right down on the floor next to the tub, telling me all about her. I dutifully asked questions. He gleefully answered, pointing out features like a kid in a candy store.

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Then I "accidentally" dumped a huge bucket of water on her.

Okay, not really.

But in essence I drowned her by limiting her hours of operation. There is only going to be one skinny broad in the bedroom, and it's going to be me. If I can forego eating after 8 Rex can turn off Ipod. Especially if he wants me to turn him on.

Honestly, if I can't share my husband with an Ipod, I'd go crazy living in a sect. Cross that one off the list.

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